


Sew Be It!

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [10]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Donald and Daisy cameos, F/M, Gen, Hell hath no fury like Minnie Mouse, Minnie Mouse: the Edna Mode of Duckburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: Drake Mallard's dreams of acting weren't the only dreams destroyed in a fire on the set ofDarkwing: First Darkness.In Mouseton, a young seamstress is unhappy with her art and life. And she's really unhappy to get yet another commission for a Darkwing Duck cosplay from "terrorthatflapsinthenight91"...
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse
Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478648
Comments: 28
Kudos: 158





	Sew Be It!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Summer Solstice!

Minnie Mouse was waving at the departing customer with a cheerful “Come again!” when her computer dinged, informing her she had a new email.

Minnie brought up the tab with her email and frowned.

“Again?” She mumbled as she clicked on the email from the semi-anonymous ‘terrorthatflapsinthenight91’. She scowled as she read the email. “AGAIN?”

“Everything okay, Min?” Her boyfriend, Mickey, asked as he emerged from the small kitchen in the back, holding two cups of tea.

“No, everything is not okay!” Minnie snapped, hating that her high, squeaky voice could not convey how angry she felt. “Darkwing Nut has another order!”

Mickey blinked. “Again?”

“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” Minnie exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air before putting them on her hips and tapping her foot. She huffed. “I need to sew. Can you handle the store on your own for a little while?”

“Of course,” Mickey told her with a nod. “Here, take some tea. It’ll help.”

“You’re a doll, you know that?” Minnie said, smooching Mickey’s cheek and taking her red and white-polka dot mug from him before disappearing into the backroom.

As the door closed behind her, she looked at the projects she should have used her energy on—the ones from paying customers—and instead bypassed it to her own, second, personal workstation.

Her latest work-in-progress, a cosplay of one of her favorite video game characters, was waiting for her. She sat down at her sewing machine, drank half the mug of tea in one go, set it aside, and put her foot on the pedal, allowing the hum of the machine to surround her.

The Bowtique that Minnie ran with Mickey’s help wasn’t actually Minnie’s. It was her parents’. Her mother and father were each fabulously talented fashion designers in their own right, and upon marrying had created a fashion empire. They had established The Bowtique when Minnie was a baby, and she had grown up running along the bolts of cloth and ribbon, hiding under the skirts on the mannequins, and learning how to sew and design at her parents’ knees.

Minnie loved sewing. She loved designing. She loved fashion. And she loved The Bowtique.

But her true passion was costume design.

After learning the basics of sewing, Minnie challenged herself as a teenager to make cosplays. Her costumes were legendary; she had been featured in blogs, won countless awards at cons, had a huge social media following, and she was quite pleased to make fanboys butthurt when they challenged her at trivia and lost.

Her parents had never questioned her choices to make cosplays as a teenager. They never encouraged it, necessarily, but they always told her how proud they were of her techniques, her ingenuity, her fabric choices, how she took something two dimensional and made it real.

And they were thrilled when she got into design school. They couldn’t have been more proud of their one and only baby girl!

At least, they were proud until she told them that she planned to study costume design.

And then they sat her down and told her that wasn’t going to happen.

The conversation had broken Minnie’s heart, but her parents had made it clear. She was going to fashion school to study _haute couture_ and nothing else. So she could take over The Bowtique and their empire. They wouldn’t pay for anything else. Minnie was not to ever deviate from the plan they had so meticulously crafted in the slightest.

Minnie graduated at the top of her class. Her designs were always praised, even by the professors who made it clear that she was not to be given special treatment due to who her parents were. She had job offers left, right, and center. But her parents insisted she run The Bowtique of Mousteon, the very shop she had grown up in.

They would not accept anything else, Minnie soon learned, when an internship became a job offer that she didn’t even want but still felt numb as she politely turned it down, using the same words her mother had told her to say though they felt bitter on her tongue.

Doing cosplay on the side was the only way that Minnie stayed sane throughout fashion school. It was how she met Mickey, too, when they happened to be cosplaying from the same show at a con and encountered each other. Another fan asked if he could take a photo of the two of them together, and they agreed. Then they talked, and exchanged numbers, and the rest was history.

Only Mickey, his family, and Minnie’s best friend, Daisy Duck, knew the truth of how they had really met. Minnie told her parents they met each other at the grocery store. Her parents didn’t know about her continued cosplaying, a risky game she played. After all, in the same conversation where she was told she would be studying _haute couture_ and nothing else, her parents threatened to take away her allowance if she showed any sign of distraction from her goals.

Meaning, of course, their goals.

She knew it was their goals from the beginning, of course. That didn’t make it any less painful when they dumped The Bowtique on her so that they could travel the world and continue to build their empire, attending fashion weeks, searching for inspiration, and rubbing elbows with other designers. Minnie rarely saw them anymore, and it was like overnight all of their controls and strings dropped and yet she still wasn’t free.

When Minnie was small, she thought running The Bowtique would be a magical experience, something she wanted. Even teenage Minnie thought it would be cool, even while she pursued costume design.

But, in truth, it was soul-crushing.

Oh, sure, she put out the designs people wanted. She made things unnecessarily avant-garde, eccentric, and electric. But also casual, comfy, flirty, traditional. Her clothes were on runways, on models, always in demand, and highly praised. And she did want to see the shop thrive, really; it was more of her home than the actual house she was raised in, and much more her home than her apartment. She couldn’t bear to see it closed.

But it wasn’t her. Nothing that she produced that left the door of The Bowtique was ever something that came from the heart.

Only Mickey and Daisy were allowed into her true inner sanctum, where she continued to work on cosplays. Those two and cosplays were the only things that kept her going.

And then, about a year ago, an opportunity arose. She had seen it on one of the costuming blogs she followed.

A production in Duckburg at McDuck Studios was looking for a lead costume designer. There wasn’t much information about the actual production, other than it was a movie reboot of some old TV show called _Darkwing Duck_.

“I think you should go for it,” Mickey told her when she mentioned it to him in an off-hand way.

“What, really? Me? With no formal costume design instruction?” She asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Mickey leveled a gaze at her and put his hand on hers across the dinner table. “Minnie, you don’t need formal costume design instruction. You never needed it. We all know you are the best. They would have had nothing to teach you.”

With Mickey standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, she submitted her portfolio. The anxious thudding of her heart calmed as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, whispering in her ear how proud he was of her, how happy he was for her, how excited he was to support her.

A week later, she got an acceptance.

After much celebrating, Minnie packed her bags, left Mickey in charge of The Bowtique, told her parents she was taking a creative sabbatical, and moved in with Daisy in Duckburg.

She spent her first night in Duckburg staying up till dawn watching _Darkwing Duck_ , studying the costume and making her own designs. Bleary eyed and on several cups of coffee already, Minnie showed her design to the director, who merely nodded and waved her away, telling her it looked perfect and to go on.

The disappointment of the brush off was replaced by the ecstatic feeling of being in a real costume design studio, armed to the teeth with tools and a budget that she could use however she wished.

Minnie was to make the principal costume, from which the other seamstresses would make duplicates for stunt-doubles, in case of accidents on set, at photoshoots for promotional materials, and more.

But before she could get started, she had to take measurements.

Minnie was nervous about meeting the actor who was to be the film’s star. She was even more nervous after meeting him, as he had jabbered away during the measurements session about how excited he was for the project. Because apparently he was a huge _Darkwing Duck_ fan. Which meant that her costume truly _had_ to be perfect.

Minnie worked for a week straight on the costume with little sleep and a great deal of coffee as she cut fabric, sewed, ripped stitches, and more, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect.

She hadn’t been sure if she was shaking from too much coffee or anticipation as the actor returned for the fitting. She had paced outside of the changing stall as he put on the costume, nearly jumping out of her skin when he emerged, ready for the accessories she had laid out.

A pair of white gloves. A cloth mask. A cape. And a wide-brimmed hat.

Minnie watched as the star put each piece on slowly, reverently. Then he stood in front of the mirror, holding the hat between his hands, staring at his reflection for a long moment.

Then he put the hat on.

Minnie heaved a huge sigh of relief and nearly cried at seeing the grin on his face.

“I love it,” He told her. “You modernized the costume amazingly. Functional, mysterious, and debonair all in one!”

Minnie had giggled at that, her cheeks flushing from the praise. Relief, excitement, joy, and pride radiated through her.

She had done it. She was officially a costume designer!

This was going to launch her career, this was going to show her parents that she was meant for this, that she could do anything!

And then everything ended in a fiery blaze.

Minnie didn’t know exactly what had happened that day. She had left a senior seamstress in charge of the wardrobe department that day, so she could go see Mickey in Mouseton. When she arrived the next day, refreshed and ready to work, it was only to be told to pack up her personal items.

 _Darkwing: First Darkness_ was not just cancelled. It was gone.

It was never, ever, going to happen.

All of her hard work was wasted.

Her big break was gone.

And—though she didn’t think of it at the time—so was the costume she had designed.

Crushed, Minnie packed up and returned to Mouseton, angry and humiliated and just glad that she had never told her parents what she was doing so she didn’t have to hear their smug “We told you so”.

She couldn’t touch her cosplays for a while after that. She felt barely alive, going through the motions of living. Her staff had noticed. Her customers noticed. Heck, even her parents noticed.

And then the first email arrived, from one ‘terrorthatflapsinthenight91’, with a simple ‘Cosplay Commissions?’ as the subject line.

This guy had found out that she had been responsible for Darkwing Duck’s costume from the failed _Darkwing: First Darkness_ and wanted to know if she would make a costume for him. He sent the measurements needed, and promised a hefty sum of money for a completed costume.

Minnie hadn’t known that the costume had leaked, or where it had leaked, or how her name had become involved.

But someone liked her work. They wanted her costume work.

And the amount of cash being offered was more than enough to make up what she had lost when the movie went under.

So, like a fool, she agreed, made the costume, and shipped the costume off to Duckburg and didn’t think anything of it after the promised money showed up in her bank account.

At least, she didn’t think anything of it until another email arrived, asking for another costume from the same person. Explained that some ‘accident’ had befallen the previous one beyond repair and he wanted to replace it.

So she made yet another Darkwing Duck costume and shipped it off without a thought.

And then another email arrived, asking for yet another costume.

Actually, not ‘another’ costume: _two_.

Two costumes.

One regular, and the other to be winterized at her discretion.

She didn’t understand, but, again, the money being offered was too tempting. Especially as he was willing to pay more than double.

Minnie sewed, designed, sewed some more, then sent both costumes off to Duckburg.

“But that’s it!” Minnie declared passionately over the dinner table as she tried to grab a wonton with her chopsticks. “I’m not making cosplays for anyone else other than me from now on!”

“Hopefully, having two costumes will keep him happy,” Mickey had said in agreement as he ate his chow mein.

And then what happened?

She got another email from ‘terrorthatflapsinthenight91’, asking for yet another costume!

Minnie was seething over this, and had been for some time, when her sewing machine jammed.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” She muttered, trying to fix the mess. “What on earth is this guy doing with all of those costumes? Ruining them one after another? Taking advantage of me and my skills and hard work and—”

Minnie froze and rose from her machine.

She calmly but quickly strode through the work room and threw open the door, scaring Mickey, who nearly dropped his phone.

“Lock the doors,” She ordered, her eyes blazing. “We’re going to Duckburg!”

*****

“Uh, Minnie?” Mickey said nervously from the passenger seat, his hand on the Oh-Jesus strap above the door. “Dontcha think you should slow down a bit?”

“No.” Minnie snapped, her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and her hard gaze fixed on the road. “Now be useful and bring up that shipping address and put it in the GPS!”

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” Mickey told her, putting his phone on one knee and taking Minnie’s out of her purse, unlocking it. “Okay. This… Drake Mallard—”

Minnie scoffed. “What a fake name if I ever heard one.”

“—lives at 537 Avian Way.” Mickey finished, plugging this into his phone’s GPS. “Uh, Minnie? Do you really think that this is a good idea? Going to Duckburg to confront this guy? I mean, what if he’s dangerous? Or… or a creepy weirdo?”

“That’s why I brought you,” Minnie informed him.

“Hot dog,” Mickey mumbled.

“I will not be taken advantage of, Mickey!” Minnie declared as she took the exit for Duckburg. “And this guy has been clearly taking advantage of me! He’s probably selling my costumes for twice as much as he bought them for! I’m going to tell him exactly where he can shove his requests for more costumes!”

Mickey decided he was going to stay quiet for the rest of the car ride, mostly because he was afraid that if he said a word, she’d change her mind about who she would inflict her horrible punishments on.

Finally, the GPS directed them down a cozy little street in a cozy little subdivision in the cozy little suburbs of Duckburg, and Minnie put the car into park in front of 537 Avian Way.

The house looked… normal. There was a huge dent in the garage door, and there was a bike leaned up against the front porch, and various sports balls on the grass.

Minnie slammed her car door and marched up to the front door, Mickey rushing to keep up. She went up and knocked on the door.

There was the sound of small feet running and the door flew open.

“PIZZA!” Yelled a young duckling with a ponytail of thick red hair. However, her grin quickly turned into an expression of confusion as she blinked at Minnie and Mickey.

“You’re not the pizza guy,” The duckling said, stating the obvious.

“Does Drake Mallard live here?” Minnie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Depending on what I answer, will a pizza appear?”

“No.”

The duckling sighed then shrugged. She looked over her shoulder and called, “Dad! It’s for you!”

“Gos, what is all the yelling about?” An exasperated male voice demanded as he came into view.

Minnie’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

No. No way…

“You!” She exclaimed, pointing at the actor from the _Darkwing: First Darkness_ film.

The tall white duck blinked in surprise. “Minnie Mouse?” He said. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Minnie repeated incredulously. “What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here!” The duck exclaimed.

“ _You’re_ Drake Mallard?” Minnie demanded.

“Yes? Of course I am,” He said. “Now, seriously, why are you here?”

“Because someone has been ordering Darkwing Duck costumes and have been having them sent to one Drake Mallard at this address,” Minnie said, her anger rising. “And I’m here to tell you that I’m done! I refuse to sew another stitch for you just so you can… I don’t know, sell it to other fanboys or whatever it is you’re doing with my babies!”

Drake scowled. “I’m not selling them! I’ve personally been using all the ones I asked you to make. They just… uh, keep getting into unfortunate accidents leading to their untimely demise.”

That made Minnie even angrier.

“WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING TO MY POOR BABIES?”

“Geeze, woman, keep it down!” Drake hissed. He ran a hand through his hair, and she could see white bandaging wrapped around his forearm, and he winced as he moved his arm. He lowered his voice and said, “Do, uh, you get any news about Duckburg in Mouseton?”

“Yes?” Minnie said through gritted teeth.

“About superheroes?” Drake prodded.

Minnie scoffed. “Of course we get news about Gizmoduck.”

Drake’s eyes darkened and he snapped, “Not Gizmoduck!”

“Whatever!” Minnie said, throwing her arms in the air. “I don’t care about you, or your city’s heroes, I care about my art and how it’s been belligerently disrespected! Don’t ever contact me again!”

She turned to storm back to her car, but then paused on the second step of the porch, turned around and made a shooing motion to Drake, indicating for him to step back. With a confused look, he took some steps backwards into his house.

Then Minnie reached out, grabbed the doorknob, and slammed the front door shut.

And then she stomped back to her car, Mickey in her wake.

“So,” Mickey said awkwardly as he put on his seatbelt. “That went well…” He wasn’t sure if the growl he heard came from his girlfriend or her car. “So. Now what?”

“I don’t know!” Minnie snapped as she started driving down the street. “I didn’t exactly come here with an agenda!”

“Well, then how about we go find some dinner before we head home?” Mickey suggested. “We could go to that place Daisy’s been talking about. In fact, how about we ask her to meet up with us for dinner? Maybe she can bring that guy she’s been seeing. What’s his name again, David?”

“Donald,” Minnie corrected.

“I knew it started with a ‘d’,” Mickey said. “So. What do you think?”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever,” Minnie said, unsure why she still felt this rage within her. She said her piece, she got out her frustration on the person responsible, she took charge.

So why did she feel like she had unfinished business with Drake Mallard?

*****

Minnie was still glowering and seething as she leaned against the vinyl booth in the restaurant’s waiting area, waiting for Daisy and Donald to arrive. Mickey had long since given up on trying to engage her in conversation, and was now having a pleasant chat with a small child who was with her father, waiting for a to-go order to be filled.

She shouldn’t still be this angry, she knew. She had done what she came to do, it was cathartic, and it was done.

So why was she still so tense? So frustrated? So… feeling like it wasn’t actually done?

 _And just what,_ she wondered, _was he doing to destroy the costumes? And why had he asked for one to be winterized? What purpose did it serve?_

Minnie huffed and glanced over at the television screens above the bar, featuring the local news. A reporter sat at her desk, reading a report while a mugshot of a rat was on the screen beside her.

“Authorities are still searching for the supervillain known as ‘Megavolt’, and believe that he could be with two other villains, known as Negaduck and Sorceress, and advise practicing extreme caution and contacting authorities immediately if spotted. Megavolt escaped after his third imprisonment and faces a series of charges that includes theft, breaking and entering, destruction of both public and private property, kidnapping, and more.”

Minnie watched half-heartedly as old news footage was rolled, but she suddenly sat up straighter.

Gizmoduck she recognized instantly in the footage, at what seemed to be an indoor arena, fighting the rat.

But she recognized someone else to.

Rather, something else.

Someone was dressed up in a Darkwing Duck costume.

No, not ‘a’ Darkwing Duck costume.

 _Her_ Darkwing Duck costume.

That was her design. She’d know it anywhere.

Minnie got to her feet, walking slowly to the bar, placing her hands on the top for balance, her heart in her throat, hardly able to breathe as her eyes widened, watching as the footage changed.

Now, instead of an arena, Megavolt was outside. In the snow. And there…

There. She saw it.

The same person in a Darkwing Duck costume.

Not the same costume as before, but she knew it had to be the same person.

Because the same person had ordered both a regular costume, and this winterized version that stood up to the biting cold and snow, with a cape lined with fleece and a shirt made with thermal fabric and gloves that were more waterproof.

She knew. Because she made it.

That was her work, up there on the screen.

“Uh, Minnie?” Mickey said cautiously as he came to her side. “Are you—?”

“I have to go,” She said quickly, pushing away from the bar and rushing out the door blindly—barely registering that her name was being called by both Mickey and Daisy, that she was walking past her best friend and a confused male duck in the doorway.

She drove on autopilot, though she was still so largely unfamiliar with the area and had only been to the house once. It was probably a miracle that she got where she was going.

She didn’t stop until she was once again standing at the front door of 537 Avian Way, pressing the doorbell.

The same red-haired duckling opened the door, holding a piece of pizza in her hand.

“So…” The little girl said. “I know you definitely don’t have pizza this time. Or do you?”

“I don’t,” Minnie said. “I need to speak to Drake Mallard.”

The girl shrugged and called over her shoulder, “Dad! The mean mouse lady is back!”

“What?” She heard a male voice call.

Then, suddenly, Drake Mallard was at the front door again, once again staring at Minnie in confusion.

“You’ve been using my costumes,” She said breathlessly. “Every single one of them.”

“Yeah?” Drake said slowly. “I told you—”

“You’ve been using them,” Minnie continued. “As Darkwing Duck.”

Instantly, he looked angry.

“Keep your voice down,” He snapped in a hiss, ushering her inside. “Secret identities need to stay secret, you know?”

“Especially with your enemies on the loose,” Minnie said, clenching and unclenching her fists in the foyer. She pointed at the bandages on Drake’s arm. “Did Megavolt do that? And whatever he did destroyed your most recent costume?”

Drake scowled and rubbed his arm. “It wasn’t Megavolt. But, yes, the injury also resulted in a torn up costume. I, uh, tried to fix it but between the damage to the fabric and the blood and the cocktail sauce… It didn’t go well.”

“Hence why I got an email this afternoon.”

“Yeah.”

Minnie shook her head and waltzed into the living room, where the red-headed duckling was sitting and pretending to watch TV while actually listening in on the conversation.

Minnie sat down on the couch, crossing her legs at the ankles, putting her hands in her lap primly.

“Darkwing Duck,” She said simply, still stunned. “Like the movie?”

“More like the original show,” Drake said, sitting down in an armchair near her. “Listen, I’m sorry I keep asking for you to do a whole bunch of work making these costumes since things get a little, uh, dangerous.”

The duckling scoffed. “Understatement.”

“Yeah, well,” Drake said, flashing a glare over to the girl—his daughter? She hadn’t known he had a kid. Then he turned that intense glare onto Minnie. “I won’t harass you for anymore costumes, I swear, all I ask is that you don’t tell anyone.”

Minnie tilted her head to him. “I won’t tell anyone. But you don’t have to harass me for costumes.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear earlier,” Drake said, rubbing the back of his head.

“No, what I mean is,” Minnie said, shifting to turn to look him in the eye. “I want to make more costumes. Now, at least, I do.”

Drake blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Minnie said with a nod. “If I had known what you were using them for—not just going to conventions or being in a movie or… whatever—then I would have done them differently. Different fabrics, different stitches, different ways to lessen the wear and tear.”

“Are you sure?” Drake asked, a bit suspiciously.

Minnie nodded once. “So very sure. This is… Costume design is my passion, and I’ve never pursued it. When _Darkwing: First Darkness_ tanked, that was the beginning and end of my career in that field. I never thought I’d make it. And maybe that’s because that’s not where I need to apply my skills.”

She held out her hand. “My name is Minnie Mouse, and I would like to be the official seamstress of Duckburg’s heroes.”

Drake smiled and shook her hand. “Drake Mallard. Also known as Darkwing Duck. And I’ve got an eccentric Scottish billionaire to introduce you to, who will gladly continue to fill your bank account in exchange for my costumes.”

“I’m Gosalyn,” The red-haired Duckling said, coming over to them. “And I’m here to say: don’t believe him. Uncle Scrooge does _not_ part with money happily. Also, future client when I eventually become a hero of Duckburg, too.”

“Which won’t happen until you’re too old for a bedtime,” Drake said, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Which is why I stay up past my bedtime, duh,” Gosalyn said with a roll of her eyes.

Minnie smiled.

“Drake, Gosalyn, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful business relationship.”


End file.
